


Dont You Dare Forget the Sun *on hold*

by InfamousPansy



Category: Dracula & Related Fandoms, Dracula (TV 2020), Dracula - Bram Stoker
Genre: Addiction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Daddy Issues, Enemy Lovers, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:20:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25182388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InfamousPansy/pseuds/InfamousPansy
Summary: With a fistful of my hair, the monster dragged me into the tomb, tossing me down the flight of stairs, his laugh mocking me as I fell. I hit the ground with thud as everything around me started to spin. I couldn’t die this… I wouldn’t... I won’t… However, just as I gained the confidence to attempt another feeble escape, my scenery morphed into a dual office setting, the count’s laughter vanishing, and the laughter of Henry Smith taking its place.*This story will be continued after i finish my others*
Relationships: Arthur Holmwood/Lucy Westenra, Dracula/Jonathan Harker, Dracula/Lucy Westenra, Dracula/Original Character(s), Jonathan Harker/Original Character(s)
Kudos: 10





	1. Omens

With a fistful of my hair, the monster dragged me into the tomb, tossing me down the flight of stairs, his laugh mocking me as I fell. I hit the ground with thud as everything around me started to spin. I couldn’t die this… I wouldn’t... I won’t… However, just as I gained the confidence to attempt another feeble escape, my scenery morphed into a dual office setting, the count’s laughter vanishing, and the laughter of Henry Smith taking its place.

“Not even noon and you’re already off the wagon, keep this up and I’ll have your job in no time Harker” he bellowed, kicking his Gucci clad feet onto his desk asgroaned in response. I hated that man. He was like frozen yoghurt, seem incredible at first but it’s actually just bland fruit. At first glance, the man was alluring, dressed head to toe in the finest clothes and smelling of patchouli but in reality, he was an egotistical, bigot whose desire was to run every single one of his co-workers’ careers into the ground.

As I came to my senses, it struck me that I must’ve dozed off during my lunchbreak and merely conjured up a memory. I was safe and that’s what matters, regardless of whatever harassment Smith may give me as a result. With a sigh, I pulled myself to my feet, grabbing the files on my desk, deciding it was probably wise to head home early for the day as my mental health was obviously affecting me. After excusing myself and getting a large array of insults from Smith regarding my cowardice, I headed to my car. 

It had been one hundred and twenty-seven years since I last saw _him_ , and any memory of his face brought me extreme anxiety. It was hard enough experiencing omens of his presence everywhere I looked in the form of storms, wolves, even bats! But now, with my old memories resurfacing, I honestly didn’t want to think of it. I worked hard over the past century to build my life and it was quite eventful to say the least.

After cancelling my engagement to my ex, Mina Murray, I moved with Belladonna to England; where I inherited the firm, I worked at from my boss, who always treated me like a son. Having come into wealth, especially after being raised in the slums was quite the adjustment, but soon, with Belladonna’s assistance I acquired a taste for the luxurious life. After a few years had passed, a peculiar phenomenon had consumed me, a I began to notice that the two of us did not age. Now as for Belladonna, that was no surprise, she was _his_ daughter, but I was human, at least I thought I was. I could still eat, and drink, and I didn’t have any ability to transform, but I did gain quite the healing ability, I was basically invincible. So, I guess, being raised in an older time, it made sense why I let smug millennials like Smith push me around, our minds were very different.

As the car jumped to life, I began to contemplate the meaning of these issues resurfacing. He was like heroine, which once rushed through your veins. No matter how hard I tried to rid him, a trace of him was still there, and it begged me for another taste. I tried to shake my mind free of the thoughts when suddenly a large black dog came barrelling across the road. My heart raced, causing me to slam on my breaks, watching it make its escape. Its howls echoed within my ears, as a policeman tapped on my window

“What seems ter be the hol’up?” He asked, biting at the loose piece of skin hanging from his upper lip.

“Did you not just see that great dog!” I argued, still bewildered by the speed of the beast.

“Sir, T’was no dog. Now yer can’t just go slammin’ on yer breaks, it is dangerous.”

“It was right there!”

“Sir, T’was no dog”

One argument and One fine later I was finally headed back home. It had been an exhausting morning and I was looking forwards to a few hours of couch time with the wife, until she started her shift at the club tonight. Belladonna owned the most popular nightclub in town. _The Countess_ , was a rocking, popping, S&M themed nightclub which just so happened to be the local hot spot for the alternative nightlife. By the time I arrived home, got changed and plopped on the couch, Belladonna had made me a sandwich and encouraged me to talk about my day. After eating, I laid down, placing my head in her lap as I told her about the oddities of today. It wasn’t rare for me to seek Belladonna’s counsel, having lived for many centuries, she was wise. But today, even her advice seemed lacking.

“There a storm coming on my love” she just smiled sadly with her words and I decided to drop the topic. For the next few hours we remained embraced, watching romantic comedies to occupy our mind. Unfortunately, we were snapped back into reality as a client requiring my legal had called. So, grabbing my jacket I raced to my office, to meet with a young blonde, who seemed to know too much for her own good. As we spoke, the world around us seemed to darken and my mind began to scream at me to run. It’s a funny thing, we all have these gut instincts, that are almost always right, but we choose to disregard the warnings they present us with. Why do we do that? Are we sadistic by nature? Do we each have an inherent desire to self-mutilate? Do we seek death? Whatever the reason being, doesn’t change the fact I continued with the conversation and when the world went dark, and the lightbulb blew. I knew I wasn’t safe.  
  
Out of the shadows, emerged a wicked grin as I stared at the women in shock. I would recognise the jaw of a beast anywhere, the only question being, was this real? The woman reached from her face, peeling the skin off layer by layer, revealing the monster that hid inside. A sick, twisted man with amber eyes emergence from the woman’s carcass as I threw up into the paper bin with disgust.

“Miss me?” His laugh, like the lions’ roar was enough to send me spiralling. Fear consumed me as he reached for my throat, pressing his body against mine. I tried to fight back, reaching for the letter opener I kept on my desk, plunging it into his shoulder blades. He dropped me hissing in pain and for a moment I truly thought I had escaped. However, as the anger washed over him, and pain consumed him, he morphed into a crazed animal and leapt at me, pinning me down as he fed. I couldn’t move, frozen in fear as he had his way with me and embarrassed by my state of undress. He finished me off leaving me soiled and wounded. The traditional calling card of his kind now placed upon my neck.  
  
Sobs escaped me, causing the frustrated male to strike me across the face.

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. Man up, this storm is coming tonight, and I like to make a grand entrance.”


	2. Spiked Tea

1892\. That was the last time I saw _him_. The jaw of the beast had latched itself to my wounded frame, gnashing at my brittle bones, like a lone wolf, refusing to share its bounty. His feast, however, ended quite quickly, as the flames caused by his destruction drew close, trapping the beast in a circle of his own making. As the heat embraced us, I felt at peace, after all, if there was one thing I knew for sure, the afterlife would be my sanctuary as there was no way that this beast could cross the lord’s divine threshold. We died that night. Well, at least I thought _he_ did. You would think that over a century of silence would be enough to confirm that fact, but I suppose I rose from the blaze, so I shouldn’t be surprised that he did to. After all, he was always the Hyde to my Jekyll, one cannot exist without the other.

The drive back to my apartment the morning following our reunion was taken in stoic silence, as _he_ insisted on driving me home to ensure I didn’t enter a hypovolemic state. Although it was only a twenty-minute journey, the trip seemed to last forever, as I spent every second suspended in pre-panic, causing me to pick at the loose skin on my fingernails. By the time we finally arrived at my home, my wife, Belladonna, _his daughter_ , had returned from her nightshift and was cooking me breakfast. As we entered the kitchen, I fell into Belladonna’s arms seeking comfort in her embrace. She held me close, cooing softly, as she turned to address _him_.

“So, the devil truly does walk among us” With a sly, fox-like smile, he let out an amused chuckle before taking a seat on the bar stools. “How I’ve missed you, my treasure” When he spoke to her, his voice morphed from the cruel and callous nature he used with me, to something which resembled a sweet honey.

“As I you. So, what bring your cruel, black heart to my home”

“A little bit of hunger, a little bit of boredom, I suppose you do what you ought to do.” Belladonna made an amused noise as she flipped my pancakes and began to question the count of his recent escapades.

As the two delved into deep conversation, the man told us of the many adventures he had experienced since we last saw him. What puzzled me, was the fact he was standing here before us today, despite the vivid memories I held of his demise, _he_ stood there. His response- claimed a misconception on my part, as he referred to the immortality of _his kind_. Regardless, of the reasoning, I was uncomfortable with his presence in the apartment, and blatantly refused any form of communication with him. Frustrated with the tension between her father and myself, Belladonna eventually excused herself to dress for the day, causing me to take refuge in the couch cushions instead.

Putting that little amount of distance between us caused a spike in my confidence, and I wasn’t about to let that fade away. Desperate to keep myself emotionally stable, I picked up the novel I had been reading over the past few nights. I dove into the story, taking an occasional sip from the scotch bottle that I left of the lamp stand. Kicking my feet up on the table as I read, was enough to calm me- which was good enough considering. 

Suddenly, the morning alarm signalling the start of my day went off within the bedroom, causing Belladonna to approach me, her hands lightly grazing my shoulders as I tilted backwards to look at her. 

"What did he do?” she whispered, kissing the top of my head. I sighed closing my book turning to look at her properly

“Usual crap… Didn’t think I’d have to go through this shit again” She nods, fiddling with her hands like she did when she was feeling guilt ridden. "I'm sorry..." she whimpered, tears falling. I huffed. For an immortal being she was very fragile, especially when I was the one suffering.

“Why are you sorry? It’s not your fault”

“He hasn’t got a place in London yet… I told him he could stay for a few nights…” 

"Dont pull this. Don't you dare pull this." As I snapped, she hid behind her hands, silently sobbing.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I know you don’t get along with him… but… can you try?" she muffled, hiding face within my hair.

“Please don’t put this back on me." I huffed, closing my own eyes, best not to get emotional, I really didnt want to start a fight... But I felt far from safe.

It was a good few minutes before she finally spoke. "It’s only for a few nights.... and I just missed him so much"

I put my head in my hands, rubbing my eyes and moving them to my hair. "I... I understand okay... I do... but can’t you realise how hard this is for me?"

She moved, sitting beside me, wrapping her arms around my waist, t to my side snuggling into me. I myself remained frozen. "Just a few nights. that's all I ask. please. I'll take him to the real estate first thing tomorrow, work out his own place"

"...I'm not going to be alone with that man."

"I'll cancel my shift tonight then"

"Rochelle took it off for a wedding you cant." I snapped back.

"Well what do you want me to do?"

"I want you to understand how difficult this is for me before you invite him into the place where we sleep!"

"I'm sorry okay. I wasn’t thinking. I was being selfish. I guess... I can take him to a hotel while you’re at work

"Thankyou…” I mumbled getting to my feet, pushing past her.

I made my way to the bathroom, now desperate to rid myself of the bloodstained rags I wore. Removing the fabric caused me to wince, as the material had started to fuse with my healing flesh. Most people in my state would’ve been hospitalised. But I wasn’t most people. Ever since the fire, my body had gained remarkable abilities, most likely due to the vampire toxin coursing through my veins. But since _he_ hadn’t been the one to pull the trigger, I guess I never completely changed. I was human but I wasn’t. It was all so strange and remarkable at the same time. At one point in my life, I knew I would have rather endured the fiery flames of hell than be what I am… But Belladonna… She made everything seem okay. Regardless of the situation, my wounds had begun to heal. The main worrisome sight had come from the dried blood clumped in my hair and staining my skin. Grabbing a washcloth, I began to groom myself, and eventually I looked somewhat dignified, with the exception the dark circles masking my eyes.

Almost to quickly, the door swung open and he stood there, smirk planted on his face.

"Johnny, leaving clothes on the floor is a filthy habit. Put them in a basket to be washed." He scoffed, causing me to roll my eyes. Still I picked up the clothes, dropping them in the basket to appease him as I reached for a new shirt. This must have amused him, as it caused the beast to step forward, pacing me in his grip of ice. 

"You're far too skinny. You should eat more" The tone of his voice was off putting, especially considered if those words came from anyone else, it would indicate a hint of concern. But I knew that was not the case. I was a child stuck in a candy house, to scrawny for a meal, but I held potential- and he knew that.

Glancing at the hands which held my waist, I drew in a sharp breath. "Please let go of me." Rather than complying to my request, he closed the gap between us, moving a pointed finger to caress my cheek. I spat at him in disgust. It wasn’t much of a defence manoeuvre, but it was enough to make my intentions clear. I wasn’t playing his games. Horrified, the beast removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the saliva from his face.

"Is that really necessary?" He was far from amused.

"Yes.”

"I thought you were an affectionate man Johnny, at least that’s what I remember?”

"Fuck You Vladimir”

 _His_ patience was running thin. “You will address me properly Johnathan. I don’t care if these times have changed. You will address me with the proper title. Be glad you’re alive and breathing.”  
"Get out of my home. I revoke my invitation!” The beast simply laughed.

“Belladonna is the primary landowner of this property, for me to leave, she needs to revoke the invitation Johnny, not you!” He patted my shoulder laughing before turning on his heel “You’ll have to try harder than that to rid me boy” With those final words he was gone, having re-joined Belladonna in the kitchen. I huffed in annoyance, my fist colliding with the wall. I was never going to escape him, was I?

Deciding it best to call in sick for work, and take some me time instead, I showered and headed out to a local café. I had experienced his attacks more than enough to know how my body would respond. A cup of hot tea, something to eat and a day of rest would be enough for me to physically recover, but the emotional wounds ran deep, and those old wounds had just been ripped wide open.


	3. Curse of Life

To me, the most remarkable thing about immortality is bearing witness to the advancement of the human race. Sure, some may claim that eternal youth, healing capabilities and power were immortality’s true spoils, but having personally bore witness to that lifestyle, I would argue that the pursuit of knowledge overpowers any other aspect. I personally found myself drawn to mental health developments, as the information became a safety blanket, allowing me to cope with my trauma in a new light. Desperate to free myself from my pain, I subjected myself to numerous experiments including some medical horror stories ranging from electroshock therapy to lobotomies. Immortality made me the perfect test subject, as my body healed from any wounds, but the psychological affects lasted. If anything, all that the older methods managed to do were condition me to bottle up my emotions. I suppose that’s why I often found myself struggling to express myself in any given situation, especially modern-day therapy. My therapist, a Mr. Samael Witica, often told me that emotional wounds are buried deep inside of us, and as a result they cut us deeper. Due to this, in order for us to heal we had to bring this wound to the surface and tend to it. But how can you tend to a wound no one believed existed?

The whole experience I endured last century with h _im_ ; had been enough to emotionally ruin me and I’m sure, that if any other of his victims had survived, they’d hold the same existential dread. After all, when works of fiction suddenly become your reality, you find yourself trying to correct the narrative. So, I guess you can understand how my recent encounter with the beast would cause these issues to resurface. I fell back into my depression. I began to emotionally regress. Once again, I found myself bound by my triggers, as I began to flinch at the smallest of movement or tremble at the setting of the sun.

To protect myself, I took sanctuary in the bedroom, finding comfort buried underneath the covers. I knew this behaviour was causing my beloved Belladonna to worry, but she was so overrun with work that she only graced my presence for a few sunlit hours. Her absence was both a hurt and comfort for me. I missed her touch; I needed her embrace, but my mind was screaming at me that isolation was all I deserved. So, I stayed there. I stayed there for weeks on end and eventually, the lifestyle started to take its toll.

I turned to alcohol. It was an old vice I took up during the early 1900s. After the realisation of my immortal state, I often found myself intoxicated at the local speakeasy. The bootlegged liquor, the violent environment and constant supply of opium enabled me to experience death without the commitment. It was a tragedy really. Immortality gifted to the one man who truly wanted to die. I guess God truly was testing me. As time progressed, I stayed away from that lifestyle, however, that had changed now. I wanted to feel that numbness again. I wanted to experience death once more. So, I started to drink. I drank until I was apathetic for life, then I drank more.

I tossed the bottles to the floor, littering the room. Belladonna would be mad I’m sure. But at this point I didn’t care. When bottle number… well I don’t, even know hit the floor, I was met with cold slender hands.

“Johnathan… My love… That’s enough” Belladonna spoke with such authority, but her words were sweet like honey. She cared; I knew she did. But there was still something off-putting about her tone, something that made me want to rebel against her. So, I flipped her off, pulling the blanket over my face. Belladonna huffed in annoyance, pulling the blanket from grasp, causing me to shoot daggers her way. As much as I loved Belladonna, she didn’t exactly have much empathy, guess it was the lack of human in her.

“Look, I know you’re suffering, and we will be dealing with this. You have an appointment with Samuel tomorrow. But right now, you need to get your ass in the shower. Mr. Smith is in our living room; you’re supposed to be in court. Come on now love, chop chop” I merely groaned in response as her hands found their way into mine. Suddenly, another voice filled my ears, and I became very aware of the fact that the two of us weren’t alone

“C’mon Johnny, you can’t be lazy. You’ve got to, well what’s that saying the kids use get this bread?” He said… He was here, in my sanctuary, the beast; Count Vladimir Dracula. 

At the sound of his voice, my muscles stiffened. Belladonna must have been assisting her father today when Henry Smith swung by, that’s why he was here in my room. There wouldn’t be any other reason, right? Surely, he wasn’t still staying here. But regardless of reason, he was here in my room, pulling to my feet and forcing me into the shower as my wife quietly followed behind. Before I could even react, I found myself being stripped and submerged under a water stream before eventually abandoned. Shock consumed me as I sunk to the floor, trembling at the very thought of his claws on my skin. I began to panic, manically scrubbing the areas his fingers had marked, desperate to get the beast’s image from my mind.

Operating in a tunnelled mindset, I focused on the task at hand, barely noticing the venom Belladonna spat at the count for touching me, or the presence of her hands in my hair, trying to untangle the knots. Belladonna knew of my issues and although she operated in a more traditional mindset, she respected my choices, and used the information I had told her, to help me. She memorised phrases to lead me out of panic, she looked out for my triggers, she even helped paid for my medication. I was thankful, because although she believed in the power of herbal medicine (I don’t blame her, she was about 700 years old) she knew my body, and she knew what would help.

“Do you need him to leave?” She asked, her voice calm and collected as she just continued to work on my hair. I knew she would prefer to have him close by. Vladimir treated his daughter like a princess, causing the two to be quite close. I knew she wanted him around. But the very sound of the man brought back issues I wasn’t ready to handle.

"I'll tell him not to come over for a while. He’s got his own place now. I’ll visit him on my own. I know it’s hard my love… but he’s changed… I promise” She sounded desperate as if trying to convince herself, not me. Little did Belladonna realise that we were just bugs trapped in his web of lies. He was a predator and we will always be his prey. I didn’t bother with a response, I merely let the soap fall from my hands, allowing belladonna to brush, tug and cut away at my hair.

After a dramatic haircut to free me from the knots, and small sob in my wife’s arms, I was dressed. I took a deep breath, filling myself with fake confidence as I greeted Henry Smith. The smug bastard impatiently strode towards me, taking me by the arm before rushing to his car. I barely had the chance to grab my briefcase let alone kiss Belladonna goodbye before we were out the door and headed into court.

* * *

Court was difficult. Not only because of my clouded mindset, but also due to the complexity of the situation. You see I was a criminal defender. Sure, the hefty paycheque was nice, plus it came with the added benefit of providing Belladonna access to terrible people to feed off instead of innocent civilians. Regardless, it was hard lying through your teeth to protect the literal scum of the earth, especially this client. There was just something about him. Something that reminded me of Vladimir. The bastard was a manipulator, who got off at watching his victims crumble. So, sue me. I snapped. Sometimes if you can’t get the real deal an imitation will do. Using the information, I obtained through the client confidentiality agreement, I turned in the crook to the authorities. It was a choice I didn’t think through clearly. Although the sicko was now behind bars, I lost the paycheque, was suspended, at risk of being disbarred and Smith was furious.   
  
"Get in the fucking car Harker. I can’t fucking believe you” He hissed, throwing open the door to his Bentley.

“Id rather not” I retorted. I was sick of his attitude. Sick of him.

“What would you rather do then Harker? Walk back to Chelsea?” He scoffed.

I stared at him in silence. What did I want? Clearly. I wanted death. I’ve craved death for over a century. It was ironic, that someone who danced with death on the daily could never experience it. I found myself answering his question honestly, opening up to the douche

“I want to die.” I answered honestly. Maybe just maybe, if I wished hard enough, it could come true.

"Yeah, I just fucking might grant that wish if you don’t move your ass."

“Do it then” I snapped, testing the man. I thrusted my pocketknife in his hand, raising an eyebrow in challenge.

“You’re fucking crazy!” But still, despite his protests he flicked the knife open. I stepped forward, the blade threatening to puncture my flesh

“I’ve been told. C’mon what’s stopping you asshole. Kill m-“suddenly, the metal pierced my skin.


End file.
